I adore my apartment.  Without qualification.  But, with the new year, I’ve made a few changes.  Trashed the herbs and plants on the windowsill.  The, uh, natural elements are a bit much when it’s too cold to keep the window open. (♥: Bugs, eek!) Replaced them with jars of beads and other “girl, make something!” things.

Looking for a bit of inspiration and reference, I picked up a few books from the library.  Normally, Haven: Cozy Hideaways and Dream Retreats wouldn’t have made it home, but I was running behind and just grabbed the book from the hold shelf.  I know what I’m looking for and this book really wasn’t it.  The Beach Retreat had an image or two that I kinda found interesting.  This would have so been a quick flip through at the library if I had time.  If you have the opportunity, check it out.  Maybe it’s your speed.  Amazon has it used for freakishly cheap.

While I’m not sure I’d buy Penny Saving Household Helper, I am most definitely committing things to memory.  It might actually be cute in a hostess gift basket or new grad housewarming gift-bundle.  Because, really, it’s not an only gift thing, more like one of many.  I’m actually having problems finishing this because I can’t put it down.  No, really.  I stop typing and my left hand goes in.

I’m so glad I’m getting over myself.  While I noticed how “not my aesthetic” the artwork in  Creative Time and Space: Making Room for Making Art is, I’m allowing the information to be my guide.  Um, and Ricë Freeman-Zachery’s author photo is kinda badass.  Trying to judge less, so I can learn more.

The last year has been all about process and my obsession with it.  I didn’t know how to take pleasure in the doing part.  Loved starting.  Always knew how things would end.  Never really contemplated the work.  I think it was seeing Gorky at MOCA when I realized how intrigued I’d become with process, even more than outcome.  It was in the MOCA store that I first saw Inside The Painter’s Studio.  And this is my second time taking it out.  Joe Fig, you had me at the paint splattered on the cover and artist questionnaire.

I love that this takes longer to write because I keep stealing moments to read.  I really do want to just dive in.

N♥

The Art of The Steal came in the mail today.  The end credits have rolled and I’ve just pressed pause.  Seriously, my head and heart ache.  The art, that Dr. Barnes was touched by and collected, changed my life.

Dr. Barnes created a home for that art on a piece property a little less than five miles from Philadelphia that showcases an unbelievable collection amassed by just one person.

There’s a point in the film where you get to really see what Dr. Barnes wanted from his space.  He used it to teach and draw connections between art and life and people.  His wanted to educate, not just display.

As the camera pans the gallery, there are a few Modiglianis that share the same wall as African masks in a glass cabinet.  I was struck.  That moment took me back almost 20 years to a connection I made on my own that would open my eyes to so much.

In the summer of ’93, before my best friend moved to New York, we braved the crowds at the National Gallery of Art to see the paintings from the collection of the Barnes Foundation.  I stood there looking at one of Modigliani’s reclining women.

It was like I’d never seen a painting that meant anything to me before.  Never seen a painting that stopped me and wouldn’t let go.  Never one, in a town full of museums, that was so different, yet as familiar as the mostly African and African-American art that lived all over my mom’s house.

I made that connection between what was on the walls of the National Gallery of Art and what was at home.  I got that her face was like the masks and figures that I looked at every day. But, I also stood a foot from color I’d never felt so vibrant.  Layers of color that drew me in.  The tones of someone else’s skin against a couch so rich, so deep and textured. I don’t remember any other painting I saw that day.

That Modigliani that Dr. Barnes made a part of his legacy didn’t change my life in a way that made me want to be a painter, want to work in a gallery or dive headlong into the art world.  In a way, it just gave me permission.  Permission to believe in what I was drawn to and to allow myself to want to know more while feeling a little less intimidated.

After watching The Art Of The Steal, I would give that all up for the collection to have never been able to travel.  I knew back then that this was NOT what the good Dr. wanted.  I just didn’t know that it was the beginning of what seems to be one of those long cons that has played out over the last two decades.

I only hope that those folks with dollar signs in their eyes aren’t the only ones that win in the end.

Nikki♥

Ideal Bookshelf 8:ST by Jane Mount

(image: janemount.com)

I’m late.  I know.  I just discovered Jane Mount through 20X200.

Loving.  And Dorking Out.  The pieces in her Ideal Bookshelf series are simply beautiful and beautifully evocative.

Loving, not just because there seems to be some similarities between Ideal Bookshelf 8: ST and books on my shelf. (♥: Ummm, right.)

I laughed a little the first time I saw Ideal Bookshelf 8: ST.  I knew how I had come to have the books that are shared with the print, as well as why I, intentionally, don’t have a few in that are in the piece.  The more I looked at it, the more I began to wonder about ST.

I’m fascinated by Mount’s Ideal Bookshelf series.  It really is an interesting way to peek into someone’s life.  Or assume that you’ve seen something.

Time to start collecting.

Nikki♥

Jane Mount

Jane Mount’s Etsy Shop

Jane Mount at 20X200

Do you ever smile at the clouds?  I can’t help but be amazed by the beauty of the sky.

Apparently, I’m in hyper-adoration mode for tangelos and Sandra Juto… The comments on her wrist worm giveaway remind me how small the world is and how great the internet is at connecting people.  It’s just everyone listing their favorite movies.  It warms my heart a little when someone else talks about how much they love Me and You and Everyone We Know, Before Sunset, Strictly Ballroom and all things Almodovar.

Esthero… One of my favorite singers, ever ever, posted a song that leaves me with a tear stained face.  There’s such beauty in its simplicity.  Black Mermaid stirred something.  It not only made me happy,  but it moved me to use those moments, so easily wasted, doing what I’m here to do.

Nikole Herriot, of Forty-sixth at Grace, makes and photographs such beautiful cakes.  I want to make more cakes.  I want to make lots of pretty cakes.  I want to forage for antique bundt tins.  (♥: Okay, breathe.) Innnnnn.  Ouuuuuuuttttt. Thx. I needed that.

Still working on booking a trip to visit relatives while the William Eggleston exhibition is at the Art Institute of Chicago.  I don’t really own a coat.  So, I just need it to be, you know, warmer.

Uh-oh!  I can get a bit of stellar photog right here in Beverly Hills.  Gursky at the Gagosian opened last week.  Sweet!

Counting the days… The Art of the Steal opens this weekend here in LA.  It looks like I’m about to get on an emotional roller coaster.  Dr. Barnes and his collection changed the way I see and appreciate art.

Ahhh, the art of making me happy.  It’s a challenging craft that I’m learning to practice every single day.

Nikki♥

Watched: Beautiful Losers.

(artwork via beautifullosers.com)

For me, it just might be worth owning a copy.  Why? It’s a fascinating doc about a group of artists who created their own paradigm.  I spent the first half of the movie itching to make something and the second half not wanting it to end.

Nikki♥